League Of Outcasts
by ZellaPanther
Summary: The tale of a woman fighting with comrades to defeat the Darkest force that ever was. Each person with a different past, different story to tell, and the links that brought them together; sharing laughter, drinks, spellbooks, dreams and kisses along the w
1. Dreamin' Of a Bright Christmas

Technically, I really shouldn't be here, telling you this right now. I should be dust; long since passed on and naught more than a mere memory.  
  
For awhile there, I almost was. I was a protégé, an innuendo, and a ghost of the person who's telling you all this now. People thought I was going to die; they viewed me as just another loss; a victim of the horrible war we fought, and dismissed me with rarely more than a second glance.  
  
And had it not been for a few people. a few very special, albeit odd, people, I would have been the statistic I was taken for. Hell, I even thought that was my fate, until I was brought back by thirteen people. Ironic, how so many people see that number to be an omen of imminent doom. Which was certainly considered to be my destiny. Hope, you'll find, was a word that was slashed to tatters during that horrible time.  
  
But, as I said, there were thirteen people. And you already know that the ending shall be victorious, because I'm standing here talking to you at this very moment.  
  
But Hectate help me, I shall not call this a happily ever after story. There was no true happiness, and we haven't reached the ever after yet. However, when we do, I intend to be, physically at least, ashes, so I'm sorry to say I won't be around to tell you.  
  
In the meantime, let me tell you where the road twisted to lead me here to you.  
  
'Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes, Wherein our savior's birth is celebrated The bird of dawning singeth all night long And then they say no spirit dare stir abroad The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm So hallowed, and so gracious, is that time....'  
~ Hamlet  
  
Such an interesting quote from my perspective. So touching, so lyrical. and yet barely a word of it could be true.  
  
First of all, being Celtic meant that there was no savior to the level that most religions believed in. Christmas had simply become and over commercialized, incredible accessorized holiday we used to be overtly happy, gift giving people. And, of course, to be arse over teakettle drunk. Joy to the World!  
  
As for the spirits, they seem to have quite enough fun roaming through hallways and singing mournful carols over my bed in the dead of night. I see no reason for them to be stirring abroad anymore than they already are. Witches not having the power to charm was just downright funny. I could not read that line without bursting out into distinct and raucous laughter. Every time. And to hear me laugh is a very interesting experience in general, but my trying to hold it in out of respect for the quote just manifested into a spasmodic, snorting outbursts that eventually turn to downright attacks of amusement. You get the idea?  
  
But just to prove my point, during Christmas I wandered around casting an obnoxiously large amount of spells, rivaling Dumbledore in the decorations I put up. Consider it a personal vendetta to non-believers.  
  
You may be wondering if there was a point to that long winded spiel. Basically to give explanation to the fact that I woke up on December 23rd with seven house elves danced as miniature Santa's proclaiming the need to decorate.  
  
Suffice to say I was not a happy witch.  
  
After the house elves had all been threatened with REAL clothes, (I had bewitched them and had someone else give them the clothes so they could be worn) I rolled back over, only to be awoken a few minutes later by a larger, and equally infuriating, person who wished to get into the Christmas Spirit.  
  
Albus Dumbledore had entirely too much stamina for a man over a century old. A rumbling laugh alerted me of said presence, and a moment later there was a whiskery kiss planted on my cheek.  
  
"Mrrrrrrrrph," I grumbled, and turned over to face him completely. "Wha' the bloody hell are you doing..."  
  
He shook the mistletoe held over my head lightly and laughed again as I buried my head under my pillow. With the remaining hand, he swept over the top of the bed and my source of warmth soared away from the mattress.  
  
"You're asking for it," I growled at him, and he raised an eyebrow quizzically.  
  
"And what is it, exactly, that I'm asking for?"  
  
"I'll decide that after I get my wand," I threatened, and reached instead for my bathrobe, tying the frayed rope ends together with decisive force.  
  
Dumbledore winced. "There's really no need for a corset with you anymore, is there?"  
  
"No," I answered, tugging at the ends a little tighter to ensure they really weren't going anywhere. "I figure I should probably accentuate my figure as much as possible without the use of whale bones."  
  
"Yes, but with such devices, women were unable to take large breaths, and therefore unable to speak as much, so it had it's advantages. OW!" He rubbed at his arm where I boxed him, but recovered quickly enough to shake the mistletoe at me again.  
  
I stepped back, shaking my hands. "No, no no. I don't need to walk out of here with whisker burns, shortly followed by you. It would look entirely wrong."  
  
"Spoil sport," Dumbledore told me, but followed me out of the room after pocketing the sprig. I had no doubt I would be tortured with it later on.  
  
As it turned out, Albus wasn't going to need that mistletoe he had hidden; he had bedecked the rest of the house in similar matter.  
  
There was an enormous tree in the living room, spangled and beaded to within an inch of existence with fairies, twinkling ornaments, tinsel, and the like. In fact, I wasn't entirely sure that a tree was indeed under there.  
  
The walls had been outlined with tinsel and tiny red and green lanterns, all presumably with fairies within. Enormous poinsettias had apparently taken root overnight, and were now lining the rooms as mass foliage. Mistletoe haunted every doorway, and floated ominously in midair. I had the uneasy feeling that he had bewitched tem somehow.  
  
The house elves were different too. They had been given hats by Albus, who, not being their owner, did not free them, and were therefore bouncing about in Santa hats and pinstriped festive aprons. Dobby, who was spending the holidays with us, had taken it upon himself to knit extremely lumpy, very vibrant socks.  
  
Now, having just woken up, I was rather inclined to believe that my sleepy eyes would be presented with a darkened corridor, a dimly lit kitchen, and perhaps some sunlight coming in through the windows. Imagine my surprise.  
  
"ALBUS DUMBLEDORE!!" I shrieked, hiding my eyes behind my hands when I reached the top of the stairs.  
  
"Yes?" he answered innocently, batting away an escaped fairy.  
  
"What in the name of MERLIN. have you done. to this house?!"  
  
He glanced over the banister at the festive nightmare that lay before him, and blinked. "Just brightened up the place a bit for the holidays, dear. What do you think?"  
  
"Blinding," I grumbled, and descended the staircase the rest of the way.  
  
"Glad you like it," he answered, and glided down the stairs beneath casual robes.  
  
"I said no such thing, nor was it implied." One gets the distinct idea that I'm not the most cheerful person in the morning.  
  
"You might feel better when you examine the kitchen's changes," he observed mildly, toying with a poinsettia leaf.  
  
"Oh Gods, what did you do." I took off down the hall and burst into the kitchen.  
  
Apart from the same obnoxiously festive tinsel that adorned the ceiling, the kitchen was actually a flurry of delicious looking foods, resembling Hogwart's best at a feast.  
  
"Tea?" his deep voice rumbled from behind me, and I turned to see him sitting at the table congenially, holding the pot in his hands.  
  
"Coffee," I corrected, and went to join him.  
  
We were joined shortly by Sirius, who was completely illiterate before his first cup of coffee in the morning, and rather the living example of a caveman. He grumbled something and pulled the pot from my hands, sinking into a chair and pouring a steaming mug full, and downed it in one large gulp.  
  
"Can you articulate in something past the Paleolithic period now?" I asked, and he looked at me with a glazed expression for a moment, trying to comprehend the usage of vocabulary with more than one syllable.  
  
"That's rather cruel," Dumbledore commented, glancing up from the paper at me.  
  
"No crueler than whiskery kisses first thing in the morning," I answered, and stuck my tongue out at him to emphasize my point. "I swear, it must be your goal in life to become Santa Claus."  
  
"Tis long since been my secret ambition," he answered lightly, tugging at his beard thoughtfully. "However did you guess?"  
  
"You fit the profile," I told him, then turned to Sirius, who was still looking at me over the rim of his coffee cup with a somewhat less hazed expression on his face.  
  
"Would you please tell me what in hell you two are talking about this morning? I'm in no mood for twenty questions."  
  
"I'd have thought you could have guessed."  
  
"From what?" he prompted, disappearing behind the ceramic again.  
  
"The sickening festivities that have overtaken this house, seemingly overnight."  
  
Sirius looked up, with his eyes narrowed, and looked around the room for a moment, before turning back to me. "You did this to me, didn't you?"  
  
I pointed an accusing finger at Albus, who merely shrugged and looked up at the ceiling innocently. I'm sure you've noticed, but he has the most annoying habit of looking overhead when he's trying to be neutral. And usually, he's very good at it.  
  
"Don't look all sweet like that," I reprimanded suddenly, and his eyes snapped back to my face. "Anyway, it seems kind of silly to go through all this trouble-"  
  
"No trouble," he assured me all too sweetly.  
  
"Will you let me finish one thought in my life without interruptions?"  
  
"My apologies. Feel free to continue."  
  
"As I was saying, it seems rather silly to go through the trouble when we're going to spend the holidays at Hogwarts anyway."  
  
Dumbledore looked surprised, which was an incredibly rare thing. I was very proud. "What do you mean."  
  
"You offered it."  
  
"I didn't think you'd except."  
  
"I'm a lady of mysterious qualities."  
  
"I've noticed."  
  
I grinned cheekily and summoned breakfast, which that morning happened to be two pieces of buttered toast and a sunny side up egg. Albus looked up again, obviously disappointed. "That's all?"  
  
"You've quite killed my appetite with this." I motioned at the kitchen. "Anyway, I assume that I'll be at Hogwarts soon enough, and bombarded by house elves that you sent to make sure I eat."  
  
"Would that be a problem?"  
  
"You know my formal robes?"  
  
Albus nodded.  
  
"I'd Like to fit INTO THEM!" 


	2. Home Again

A few hours later found us at the entrance of Hogwarts, breathing in a familiar misty scent as we stepped through enormous thresh holds of the castle we had grown up in.  
  
And if we had thought that Dumbledore had gone overboard at our cottage, we were sadly mistaken.  
  
Hogwarts was covered head to foot in what appeared to be tinsel, but was instead a million tiny fairies, all flittering aimlessly along the banisters. The tree in the main hall looked as though it were on fire, and I got the distinct feeling that if I were to get drunk at any point during my stay, I would surely die. The lights would cause my head to explode, and that would be the end of me.  
  
But all in all, it was a welcome sight; rather like coming home.  
  
"You clearly enjoy outdoing yourself," I commented to Albus, who was, even as I spoke, bewitching baubles up to hang from the ceiling in the two inches that weren't already covered.  
  
"This can't be any worse than when you were here," he answered me, and turned away from his decorating to face me.  
  
I quirked an eyebrow. "I think you're losing it, old man. When I was here, there was still a thing called DARKNESS!"  
  
"Silly little thing, darkness. Never helped me to do much more than stub my toe at night on the way to the loo."  
  
"Thank you, that was a very special glimpse into your personal life." I paused, and looked around. "Where is everyone, anyway? They're not all gone for vacation yet..."  
  
"No no, they're just in class right now. You know," he said, all twinkly- eyed and mischievous. "Those things you go to while you're here."  
  
I groaned and rolled my eyes. "Three, I skipped. And it was Snape." His gaze continued to pin me down. "And I had a good reason!"  
  
He nodded. "Twice, you did. Once I believe you decided to pay a visit to a certain Thomas Mulligan--"  
  
"ALL RIGHT!!" I covered my ears and screwed up my face at him. "I don't want to hear about that! Especially from you."  
  
Albus had the grace to pretend to feel sorry. "All right... We won't bring up old flames anymore. Instead, let's discuss where your charges have disappeared to."  
  
"My charges? You mean Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum?"  
  
"Sirius and Charlie, yes."  
  
"Who made me in charge of them?" I whined jokingly. "I don't know where they went. They said something about the Gryffindor common room, reminiscing, McGonagall, and Apparating Squids. I think we should fear for Minerva."  
  
"I think we should fear more for the lives of Sirius and Charlie when she finds a Squid in her water glass..." Albus trailed off and looked up at the ceiling. "Judging by the dwindling daylight, we should be overrun by the hoards of hungry wizards soon. Should we continue this elsewhere?"  
  
I checked my watch, which I had bewitched to work on school grounds, and then looked back to Dumbledore. "Yes, but later. I'm hungry."  
  
"House elves are only too happy to accommodate my quarters," he offered, motioning towards the door.  
  
"Yes, but I want to see the hoards. And the teachers. And why are you so anxious to get me back to your room? Plans for seduction I don't know about?"  
  
Dumbledore grinned. "Blast, my secret's out. Well then, I'll leave you now to get yourself settled in and cleaned up before dinner. I'll expect you at my door at---?"  
  
"Eight sharp," I filled in.  
  
"I'll be there with bells on."  
  
I spent the next half hour wondering if he was literally conjuring bells.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~  
  
"Siiiiiiirius," I called, bursting into my room. I looked around room, dimly lit by candles and fireplace. Nothing.  
  
"Fine, we'll play that game too." I walked to the fireplace and tossed a handful of Floo into the fire. "Sirius Black, get your convicted arse over here."  
  
A moment later the fire crackled, and a dark head appeared amongst the flames, grin brighter than the fire. "What is it, my sweet?"  
  
"Dinner's in half an hour. Are you ready?"  
  
One could almost see the canine in him as his ears perked. "Food?"  
  
"Yes, you dolt. Grand hall. We have catching up to do."  
  
"Yes ma'am... I'll be back in your room in fifteen minutes then. Just have to finish up some business here and wash up a bit..." He started to retreat into the flames.  
  
"Sirius..."  
  
"Yes love?"  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
He paused; grin flickering slightly before returning full force. "Things, Zella."  
  
"What things."  
  
"Just things..." He looked at me with those puppy dog eyes he knew so well. What part of me was supposed to be surprised that his Animagus was a dog?  
  
"What's in your hand."  
  
"How do you know I've got something in my hand?"  
  
"You just admitted it."  
  
Sirius stopped and then dropped his mouth, with a look so comically disgusted with himself that I had to fight not to burst out laughing.  
  
"Give me the Squid," I told him, and held out my hand expectantly.  
  
"How do you know--- Oh HELL, I've just done it again, haven't I?"  
  
I nodded cheerfully, and wiggled my fingers. Into which he deposited a jar of goo, and I struggled not to gag. "Thank you," I managed, and then reached forward and shoved his forehead back through the flames.  
  
I stood and dropped the squid onto the couch to be dealt with later, then disappeared into the bathroom to shower and groom, as it were.  
  
A few minutes later found me showered with relatively little fuss, save for the ghost that floated through midway through my shampooing. Myrtle may never be the same...  
  
Wrapping one towel around my torso, I wrung out my hair and stepped out of the bathroom and into--  
  
"SIRIUS!!!"  
  
"What--- Oiy!! Not Looking, not looking!!" he yelled, and covered his eyes with his hands.  
  
"You're PEEKING!" I screeched, tugging the towel tighter.  
  
"I can't help it, I'm a guy..."  
  
"Oh for God's SAKE.... Move!" I shoved past him, over to the bed where I had tossed out clothes, and then back across to the bathroom's threshold.  
  
"I am going in here to change. . . and I will be OUT in FIVE MINUTES. If I catch you rummaging my drawers and fondling the unmentionables, Your HEAD WILL BE DUST!" With that threat, I stomped back into the bathroom and slammed the door.  
  
I emerged from the bathroom, fully clothed, and found Sirius sitting uncomfortably on the edge of the bed; hands folded and looking rather scared for his life and anatomy.  
  
"Is it safe?" he asked, staring intently at the ceiling.  
  
"Yes, I'm dressed."  
  
"You're sure?"  
  
"Look, do you want to eat or not?"  
  
That did it. He stood and looked me up and down, before nodding. "Not bad; must say I preferred the towel..."  
  
"Sirius!"  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
The grand hall was saturated with students when we got there, and Sirius promptly disappeared to the Gryffindor table. Now that his name had been cleared, those who had known him had sent in a flood of good wishes and begs for forgiveness, and he had become a kind of big brother to the children of his comrades.  
  
Meanwhile, I made my way up to the Grand Table to visit with the staff. Many faces were familiar; McGonagall smiled down at me from her seat next to Dumbledore's, who was not there. Hooch grinned at me cheekily, and cocked her head towards Snape, who had taken one look at me and promptly buried himself under scrolls and dinner.  
  
Pomfrey and Sprout looked up from their conversation and smiled warmly in my direction, while I scanned my way down the row to see whom I had missed. There were a few unfamiliar faces; some teachers had retired (I hoped) since I'd graduated, and there was the ever popular, ever changing Defense against the Dark arts position; a chair that was currently empty.  
  
There were two extra chairs next to McGonagall, one of which was occupied by a tall dark haired man who had his back turned to me. Minerva motioned to the other, so I made my way up and sat down and watched as my dinner materialized in front of me.  
  
The man talking to Minerva was in hushed tones, bent down in half to accommodate her tiny frame. His hair was in desperate need of cutting; shaggy and sticking out at all ends. Oddly enough, it looked quite nice that way.  
  
He looked up when I sat down, letting his eyes linger long enough to try to figure out who I was, and then sat back in his chair to eat.  
  
*Oh, so this is the game we're playing, is it? You're afraid I'm a spy or something and you can't talk in front of me... Let me tell you, buddy, I know more about the Dark Arts then---*  
  
Holy Hell. That's Harry Potter.  
  
*Ok, so I don't know quite THAT much. But I'm CLOSE!*  
  
Minerva remembered her manners quite suddenly and sat up straighter than usual. "Harry, this is Zella Mackenzie. Zella, This is Harry Potter."  
  
I saw him flinch at the sound of his name, and decided as he looked apprehensively into my eyes that I felt a good amount of pity for him; being thrust into a life of fame for something he couldn't even remember.  
  
Ooooo, pity. Best not mention that to him either.  
  
"Pleased to meet you, Harry," I said lightly, and extended a hand, which he grasped firmly and relaxed physically. I didn't bother to double take at his forehead; I knew what was there, and it's not like I could have seen it under the hair anyway. "What brings you back to Hogwarts? Reminiscing about Potion's Class?"  
  
Harry shuddered violently, shaking his head so that his hair flew out further. Minerva shot us both looks, but turned her head towards her meal before either of us could get a good look at the smile.  
  
"Just here to talk about a few things..." he trailed off, glancing at Minerva for backup.  
  
"Involving the Order of the Phoenix, Voldemort, the new weaponry he's been developing in the hopes to reduce you to smoldering ashes?" I whispered at him. His mouth dropped.  
  
"Yeeeeeessssss, Harry, I'm a bit more in tune with what's going on then I look."  
  
His cheeks tinged pink. "Well, I just wasn't... I mean, you don't look--"  
  
"Like a witch?"  
  
He nodded slowly, clearly trying to think of something to get himself out of this mess. "You... you don't exactly fit the profile..."  
  
I looked down at myself. It was true enough; everyone else in the hall was in traditional robes, while I sat at the High Table in a sweater and jeans, hair pulled back into a ponytail with strands hanging out every which way from where it had dried.  
  
"All right, so I'm not your stereotypical witch. I spend a lot of time in the Muggle world."  
  
"You're sure you're a witch, though?" Harry asked through a mouthful of his dinner. His green eyes crinkled mischievously.  
  
I looked at my hand for a moment, before opening the fist to show a tiny blue flame suspended over the palm.  
  
Harry's eyes widened, and he swallowed the mouthful suddenly. "All right, you're a witch."  
  
I grinned at him, then turned back to Minerva. "So, has there been any news lately?"  
  
"Nothing worth ruining mince pies over," she answered quietly. "I trust Albus has already lured you into his quarters this evening?"  
  
"I suspect he's laying out a trail of sherbet lemons."  
  
"Then I'm sure he'll fill you in then. There have been a few interesting developments in the past few months... I'm not entirely sure what you've been kept up on."  
  
"Oh, I make my way around," I answered flippantly, then looked around at the table, where the DADA position was still empty.  
  
"What happened to the Defense teacher? You haven't hexed another one into oblivion yet, have you?"  
  
"No," Minerva answered, also glancing down at the gap amongst professors. "She's probably eating in her chambers again, or working in her classroom. Poor child's only been here for a few months, and she didn't go to this school as a youngster, so all this is rather new to her."  
  
"Where did she study, then, if she's working here?" I paused. "You didn't go off all half-assed and hire some veela descendant from Beaubuxtons, did you?"  
  
Minerva shook her head. "We had one apply, but--" She stopped to allow me the convulsion of disgust I'd just had. "If you're finished. We had one apply, but she didn't qualify."  
  
"And so, some semblance of order remains in an otherwise chaotic school," I finished in a fake announcer's voice.  
  
"Yes, well, Albus is rather fond of chaos," Minerva snapped, trying to look stern.  
  
"And you love every minute of it, don't you," I teased as I got to my feet. "Speaking of the old cad, he's probably sending House Elves scattering in all directions for food in anticipation of me."  
  
"You do look a little bonier than the last time I saw you," McGonagall offered, looking me up and down.  
  
"I'm living in exile, woman!" I shook my sweater at her. "I'm nothing more than bones! I'm wasting away! Send food, quick!"  
  
"Pish," McGonagall answered. "I personally see him delivering owls to you three times a week. You eat better than any of us."  
  
"Blast it, my secret's out. All right, I'll see you later. You too, Harry, if you plan on hanging about."  
  
He nodded. "About a week."  
  
"Good, we can share slimy old gittish stories. And if you want, I'll trim your hair so you can see again."  
  
He blushed a lovely shade of crimson, and mumbled a 'sure' sheepishly as I brushed past him again.  
  
Someone wasn't too experienced with the ladies now, was he?  
  
~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
A/N: Dedicated, as always, to the Beta Puppy, who harassed my ass on this all summer and every time I see her. Good thing too. it saves this poor thing from being dismantled and thrown into the pits of despair. Right next to all those old Geometry notes. ;)  
  
I always appreciate feedback, constructive criticism, comments, and questions, so feel free to review!  
  
Oh yeah. I don't own anybody, blah blah.  
  
And I really can't be held responsible for anything in here. . . Once my subconscious starts making an appearance, I give up and head for high grounds. If you get too scared, just click your heels and say there's no place like fanfic. . . ~~Guess Who! 


	3. Insults and Waffles

A/N: All right, I'm actually battening down the hatches a bit with this chapter, and getting a little more into the plot. The first two chapters have been, after all, general bemusement and banter of our characters. But Sirius insisted.  
  
Keep in mind that while a humorous subtext does tend to run rampant, (tis my nature) There is also a good deal of plot bunny goodness wandering the story. After all, most Harry Potter books start off on a lighter edge (Once he leaves the Dursley's) and always end up with some sort of astoundingly cliffhanging last chapter. I guarantee the usage of spells, forced heroism, and downright squicky parts.  
  
But let's not get ahead of ourselves.  
  
I paused at the entrance to Dumbledore's office; unsure of what to say to the stone faced gargoyle before me. The password had surely been changed, and I had very little hope that the statue was partial to puppy-dog faces.  
  
Fortunately, the gargoyle leapt aside a split second later, and with a confused look on my face, I wandered up and into the office.  
  
"I take it my gargoyle recognized you?" Dumbledore asked when I had opened the door and stood before him.  
  
"Anything in here that's charmed to toss me up ten feet high that I should know about?"  
  
Dumbledore spoke into his teacup, so his words were slightly muffled. "If there were, would I be so quick to tell you?"  
  
"You would if you wanted to live," I answered, and crept gingerly to the seat across from his desk. "If I sit, and find myself on the roof, you're going to find yourself floating down the river Styx." I sat, and supressed a sigh of relief as I remained firmly planted on the ground.  
  
"So, to business."  
  
"Indeed," Dumbledore answered. "We have things to discuss, and as soon as the rest of our little party gets here, we shall."  
  
I pretended to look hurt. "You mean this wasn't just a ploy to get me alone?"  
  
"Afraid not," he answered glumly. "Pity too, it would have worked like a charm."  
  
"No sherbert lemon trail necessary." I cocked my head to the side and summoned the teapot, wandlessly. Dumbledore looked mildly impressed, but under his beard, it was hard to tell.  
  
"You've been practicing," he observed approvingly.  
  
"I had to have something to do while I was locked away in that cottage. You know, would cable be such a bad thing?"  
  
"You wish to place Sirius in front of a contraption that provides him entertainment of every kind, at every hour of the day?"  
  
I nodded solemnly. "It would keep him out of my face."  
  
"But now that I've heard that," a voice from the doorway proclaimed, "I am going to follow you around for the remainder of your life and annoy you, no matter what the distraction."  
  
I turned in my chair to look at Sirius, who was looking a little too hurt to be realistic. "Then I'll be jumping off the Divinitation tower the very second this meeting is over."  
  
Harry peered over the shoulder of Sirius, clearly having just arrived. It amused me about him that as tall as Sirius was, Harry still had a few good inches to lean his chin casually on top of Sirius.  
  
"And here I thought I was doing you a favor keeping you company in your exile," Sirius sighed, and stepped forward so suddenly he caused Harry to stumble forward.  
  
"And the fact that you have Death Eaters sharpening machetes with your name on them has nothing to do with that, eh?"  
  
"Course not," Sirius said, taking a seat next to me. "Harry here has Death Eaters flinging spells at him every day, don't you Harry?"  
  
The boy in question shrugged his shoulders. "I guess," he mumbled.  
  
The boy, it seemed, was anxious to be completely void of attention.  
  
"All right then," I said, clearing my throat. "What's this all-important news that we need to be gathered here for?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded for everyone to take a seat, then began.  
  
"We've been getting some information from our sources lately," he paused to glance at the fireplace, where I was certain Snape was about to Floo in. He was the only source I knew of that was doubling as a spy to the Dark Side.  
  
"We've been getting information that Voldemort--" Everyone around me cringed, with one notable exception-- "Is planning another attack."  
  
Sirius snorted. "That was informative, thank you."  
  
"There's more, of course," Dumbledore added patiently, and let his ice blue eyes flicker casually in Sirius' direction. "This attack is meant to be on a more emotional and personal level than the last." He took another sip of his tea, and stood to pace. "In the past, Voldemort has achieved his way by means of mass murder and torture, as we well know. However..." He looked around the room at each face, lingering on the features as though he were trying to read into our souls. Part of me believed that he was.  
  
"This time, he seems to have decided that anonymous doom is not enough. His plan is to use those closest to his enemies. At this precise moment, one particular enemy."  
  
All eyes turned towards Harry, who sat up a little straighter.  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"It means," a sinister voice said from the fireplace, "That Voldemort is going to pick off your friends one by one and hold them for ransom, all the while torturing them to the point of insanity. If you do what he asks, he returns them to you, a bloodied shell of the person you knew; if you don't do what he asks, he still returns the person, but in a less than preferable fashion."  
  
Everyone turned towards Snape, who was standing next to the fire, dark robes perfect as usual.  
  
"What do you mean: Less than preferable fashion?" Sirius asked coldly, glaring down at his nemesis. "What could possibly be worse than having a loved one return insane and crushed?"  
  
"One piece at a time," I answered flatly.  
  
"Precisely," Dumbledore answered. "This is a situation we wish to avoid. So our best course of action--"  
  
"Don't say hiding," I interrupted.  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Hiding, I'm afraid."  
  
Harry snapped his head forward slightly, looking disgusted. "Hiding?!"  
  
Dumbledore turned to Harry. "Yes Harry. Contrary to most Gryffindor beliefs, sometimes the best course of action is waiting by the wayside until the ideal moment."  
  
"Potter never has been one for idealistic opportunities though, has he?" Snape said smoothly.  
  
"That is a matter of interpretation, Severus," Dumbledore answered calmly. "In the meantime, we need to work out living arrangements for the new year. Zella, I believe your current hiatus is rather drafty and lonesome?"  
  
"Apart from the pitter patter of little Sirius feet, it is rather empty."  
  
"Would you be willing to share that space with a few others?"  
  
"Such as?" *Say Snape, and I hex you to a fate far worse than death...*  
  
"I think Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger are in a fair amount of danger, as well as Lupin," Dumbledore listed, sitting back down. "Sirius will of course return, and I think Harry would be well advised to sojourn there often enough as to remain inconspicuous. Mr. Potter, do you accept?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Where am I going next?"  
  
"India," Snape answered curtly. "There is said to be an Indian derivative of a phoenix that has supernatural powers. You would be well advised to examine that hypothesis."  
  
I rolled my eyes. Snape would take even the simplest statement and draw it out to novel length. Possible magic bird in India. Take a look, Sherlock.  
  
Got it, Watson. Moving on.  
  
"Didn't you tell me earlier that there were going to be seven of us?" Sirius asked. "Even with Harry there, it's only six."  
  
"Five, Sirius. I don't count you as a person," I shot across the room.  
  
"The feeling is mutual, you wicked old hag..."  
  
"How would you like to LOOK like a wicked old hag?" I threatened.  
  
"Actually," Dumbledore said rather loudly, trying to catch our attention. "There is one more person."  
  
"Sorry I'm late."  
  
"Ahh, here she is now."  
  
Crystal Saffron. She was an earthy, mother goddess sort of woman, with amazing stamina and a lifetime of adventures quite similar to mine to prove it.  
  
Chestnut, shoulder length hair with gold streaked through it, a curvy figure, hazel eyes that had apparently never missed a trick, and changed with moods as mine did; with rosy tanned skin and beautiful, skilled hands.  
  
Her fashion sense also bore a striking resemblance to my wardrobe. I wondered why that was for a moment, before realizing that last time she had stayed over at my house for a prolonged period of time, she had combined our closets, and my shirts had been among the missing since.  
  
"Crystal?"  
  
She looked around for a moment before realizing where the voice came from. "Zella?"  
  
"The one and only!"  
  
"Thank Gods!" Sirius called out.  
  
"Shut up, you!" I got up and hugged Crystal, who had just bounced up and down happily at the sight of me. That was probably the first and only time she would ever do that.  
  
Dumbledore chuckled as we bounced around in each other's arms. "I take it you two know each other?"  
  
"Hehhhhhh?" I asked, turning towards him. "Oh, yeah, we've met once or twice." I turned back to her. "You're wearing my shirt, wench."  
  
"It looks better on me anyway," she answered loftily.  
  
"I think I'm in love."  
  
We both turned towards Sirius, who was mimicking cardiac arrest in his chair.  
  
"You really are going to hell, you know that? And you're going a lot faster if you say one more word against me!" I pulled out my wand and pointed at him threateningly.  
  
"Now now," Dumbledore said hastily, and stepped between us. "We still have much to discuss, and not very much time to do it. For those of you who don't already know, this is Professor Saffron, our newest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."  
  
"Run while you can," I whispered at her, and she shot me a look of mingling horror.  
  
A half-hour later found us let out of the office, stretching and groaning as our muscles screamed at us.  
  
We had learned that Voldemort was indeed plotting the kidnap of those closest to the Members of the Order.  
  
"Why am I here then?" Crystal had asked.  
  
"Because you are firstly, a Muggle," Snape had answered, "And secondly, a companion of Zella's, who is also a current and very active member of the Order."  
  
"Thanks a lot Zella. My mom was right about you."  
  
"HEY!"  
  
We had also learned that Crystal had been doing more than just teaching first years how to cast a counter curse against Jellylegs; she had also been working with Snape to develop a new spell against Voldemort, as I was. Yet another reason to be Voldemort's target.  
  
"Ooooh, You get to deal with Snape, AND risk painful death by Death Eaters. Aren't you lucky?"  
  
With final goodnight's, Harry disappeared up a staircase to his chambers. Snape had flooed out the nanosecond the meeting was over, leaving Crystal, Sirius, and myself standing in the middle of a deserted hallway.  
  
"Well, no sense waiting for Nearly Headless Nick to come bouncing through the walls. anyone want a nightcap?"  
  
"That depends on what the bartender is serving," Sirius answered, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Rum," I answered simply, and then laughed as Crystal gasped and made a beeline for my room.  
  
"Coming? Perfect opportunity for flirtation." I beckoned one finger at him.  
  
"Am I that transparent?"  
  
"Like a ghost. Only worse."  
  
We made it up the stairs in record time, due to a chase that erupted somewhere on the third floor and ended only when I burst into my room. Crystal had located the alcohol in record time, and was now rattling about the kitchen to find glasses.  
  
"I'd better go help her. she'll be swigging it out of the bottle in a matter mere seconds."  
  
As I disappeared into the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of Sirius attempting to either muss his hair or make it look somewhat presentable. Either way, the result was comical.  
  
"Glasses!" Crystal demanded as I walked through the door.  
  
"Left!" I answered in the same drill sergeant manner. She swung her hands towards the cabinet that contained the glasses, and whipped three out.  
  
"So, who's this Sirius?" she asked in hushed tones. "Is he a good guy?"  
  
"He's a scoundrel. A prankster, a jokester, and a class clown. I'm sure you've heard he's an escaped convict, a hardened criminal, a war veteran, and a downright barmy codger once you really get to know him."  
  
"So what we're saying is.." Crystal raised an eyebrow expectantly.  
  
I sighed. "Just your type."  
  
"Eeeeexactly." She raised her glass to me, and I took the bottle from her hands and took a few steadying gulps.  
  
"Doesn't that sting?"  
  
"Noo!" My voice raised about an octave. "It's just got a bit of a kick."  
  
After a sip, Crystal also coughed. "Kick like a kung fu fighter."  
  
A few hours later, we were thoroughly hammered, and quite proud of ourselves. Sirius was bewitching the broom to chase me around, while I attacked him with sponges saturated with frigid water. We alternated between outbursts from him as I drenched him further, and yelps from me as a broom poked itself in places better left. un-poked.  
  
"All right, all right," I said, stumbling up and pushing the offending broom aside. "I'm really going to go to bed now, before I do something I'll regret."  
  
"You did that an hour ago," Sirius told me, his words slurring.  
  
"Well then. I'd best not do it again. You two lock up when you're finished, and no hanky panky." I shook a finger, but my entire body wobbled with it, so I turned and tripped into the other room, falling into bed fully clothed and fitfully-dreamed.  
  
*****It was dark, and it was cold. That was all there really was to observe, because nothing else could be seen or felt, save for an almost suffocating sense of panic.  
  
Then there was a screaming that sliced through the silence and was almost physically painful. I stood carefully, and wandered through the darkness, searching for whom it was that needed to be helped. Footsteps echoed like thunder; it was as though I had simply gone blind.  
  
Then there was light. so much so quickly, and I stumbled backwards against the flow of green light.  
  
There was a metallic taste in the back of my mouth, followed closely by a raging burn in my head that traveled through the rest of my body. I sat up in time to see a body, mangled and twisted into impossible positions at my feet, before there was another flash of light, this time in my direction. ****  
  
"Zella. ZELLA!" Sirius shook me back into consciousness, and I shot up from the bed, drenched in a cold sweat and with astounding speed for one with a hangover.  
  
"WHAT!!"  
  
"Toss and turn a little more, why don't you?"  
  
"Sorry. It's just that. nothing, never mind." I paused, and looked up as though seeing him for the first time in my room. "And what, pray tell, are we doing here?"  
  
"We're getting you up for breakfast. Dumbledore's making an announcement of some sort, and we're supposed to be there."  
  
"How long do we have?"  
  
"Ten minutes."  
  
I leapt from the mattress. "TEN MINUTES??! Are you trying to kill me?"  
  
"I should thought that would have been fairly obvious by now."  
  
"Oh, SHOVE OFF, you nit!!" I pushed Sirius, along with the chilling sensation the dream had brought, out of my room and mind.  
  
"We're late."  
  
"Your fault."  
  
"I'm not the one applying war paint like it's going out of style."  
  
"Well if you had woken me up at a reasonable time instead of leaving ten minutes to a hung over woman, there wouldn't have been a problem!"  
  
"Well if you hadn't been rolling round that bed and moaning like you were possessed I would have been a little more keen to wake you up!" He silenced himself as we made our way to the front table, but continued to bewitch my maple syrup to spell insults across the waffles.  
  
T-R-O-L-L-O-P  
  
N-I-T  
  
S-H-O-V-E O-F-F.  
  
"Then get off my Waffles!" I hissed across the tables. Half the teachers gave me looks as though I was insane, while Harry peered over and grinned as Sirius' last message oozed back into non-existence. I glanced at him sheepishly, and turned to Dumbledore as he stood, presumably to make the announcement.  
  
But first, I made a mental note to pelt that nitwit with pastries the moment the meal was over.  
  
A/N::: Oh, behold the incredibly small cliffhanger I've left you with. Not really a cliff, is it? More of a medium sized rock.  
  
As always, thanks to the Beta Puppy; the one who attacks me my every waking moment, and hovers over my sleeping form at night, usually with some form of artillery.  
  
And to Myth and Silence, who made me feel all humble and amateur again. Damn your entirely too talented selves. Damn you both!! ^_^ 


	4. Curling Irons

As Dumbledore stood, I swept my gaze over the rest of the Hall, taking in the students, the ghosts hovering above the tables, and finally those sitting at the Grand Table. A small voice in my head noted that Harry wasn't there.  
  
"Your attention, please," Dumbledore addressed. The Hall fell completely silent and turned its attention towards their Headmaster.  
  
"Last night, at approximately midnight, the Morsmorde sign appeared over a small village in Surrey." He paused as the outburst took over the hall, and held up his hands again. "We do not know who it was, nor if Voldemort was directly or indirectly involved." He let his crystalline eyes travel along the faces of his students; most of who were openmouthed in shock, and wide eyed with fear.  
  
"The Ministry of Magic," he continued, his voice maintaining a cool tone, "has attempted to persuade me to keep this information from you, but I feel that it is better to learn the truth now, rather than circulation of rumors."  
  
I stared into my plate, wondering how I had ever been hungry. Morsmorde. He was back, this I was sure of. Dumbledore had told the Order at the end of Harry's Fifth year. That had been seven years ago and there had been many attacks since then. Certainly, they had been subtle attacks: A wizard would disappear, never to return. There had been deaths, but all had been skillfully covered up by the Daily Prophet. Now there was no hiding anymore.  
  
"There were, indeed, fatalities." The word resonated off every ear in the room, and a steady buzz filled the air in its wake.  
  
"While no one in this castle need fear any immediate danger, I would like to speak to the faculty. We need to arrange a secondary plan. Just in case," he added less-than-reassuringly. Most of the teachers nodded, and went about breakfast as though nothing had happened; save for the almost brutal force at which their sausages were stabbed.  
  
After the crowds had dispersed some time later, I stood up and made to leave, only to turn back a moment later towards Harry.  
  
"Waiting for something in particular?"  
  
He glanced up at me with piercing green eyes and then back down at his untouched breakfast. "Not specifically... just thinking."  
  
I sighed softly and moved back towards a seat next to him. "I take it you're not contemplating whether or not Sirius' obscenities are going to appear in your oatmeal."  
  
A shadow of a smile flickered across his face. "No, afraid not."  
  
A poke in the side persuaded him to continue. "I just didn't sleep well last night. I had the oddest dream."  
  
"I know the feeling," I answered, and plunged temporarily into the nightmarish images that had overtaken my mind the previous evening. "Elaborate?"  
  
"Well," he began, and turned towards me. "It starts out very dark, and completely silent. Then there's this terrible screaming, and I can't--"  
  
"Get there until it's too late, and then the perpetrating wand turns to you," I answered quietly.  
  
He nodded. "How did you know that?"  
  
I closed my eyes for a moment, and concentrated, seeking out Harry's signature psyche. When I tried to penetrate through and into his thoughts the first time, there was a surprisingly strong block against me. But not strong enough for me to break into.  
  
Close your eyes, I directed.  
  
"Why?" he asked aloud.  
  
Don't TALK, you idiot. think!  
  
I sensed him close his eyes, and a moment later heard him within my own mind.  
  
All right, now what?  
  
Open your eyes. Figuratively speaking.  
  
How the bloody hell am I supposed to figuratively open my eyes?  
  
You know that little voice inside your head?  
  
We've met once or twice.  
  
Well, put a mental image to the voice.  
  
How?  
  
Do you trust me?  
  
I think so.  
  
Then let the barrier down completely and I'll help you.  
  
I felt an internal struggle for a moment, and then felt the mental block he had put up dissipate.  
  
Now what.  
  
I smiled inwardly at his tone. It was nervous yet demanding all at once. Reach out and open your eyes.  
  
He cracked open an eyelid, and the bond we had just shared was shattered. I jerked my eyes open in surprise, and he looked at me apologetically.  
  
"I'm an oaf in the figuratively speaking world too."  
  
"No," I answered, trying to maintain some form of calmness, as my mind reeled from being tossed back and forth. "I just didn't prepare you the right way. I shouldn't have been rummaging 'round the attic without you knowing full well what was going on."  
  
He looked me up and down, obviously noting that I had begun to hyperventilate, and was, I assumed, white as a sheet.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
"Been better," I managed.  
  
"You should get to the Hospital Wing."  
  
"No, no. All I really need is a minute. I swear!" I added quickly at the glare he gave me. "I just haven't done this in awhile, and you have a lot roaming around your head. All I need is a bit of practice and I'll be right as rain."  
  
He cocked his head to the side slightly. "What I don't understand is, why were you suddenly walking through my mind?"  
  
"I was trying to figure out why we're having the same dream. Actually, I'd still like to know."  
  
Harry sat back, and regarded me carefully. "I have to go out for most of the day today." he paused and then smiled. "But if you want to pick my brain over a Fire Whisky this evening, I certainly wouldn't object."  
  
"Scoundrel," I teased, and took a last sip of tea before standing. "You're as bad as your godfather."  
  
"I doubt that," he answered playfully. "Not once, during this whole ordeal, did I accost you. Doesn't that count for something?"  
  
"I suppose I should be flattered. Or insulted, depending on how you look at it. All right then," I doffed an imaginary hat towards him. "I'll see you at eight."  
  
"It's a date."  
  
I turned around and shot him a look. "Is it now?"  
  
He blushed rather violently, and stood up quickly, nearly tripping over his bag. "It's just a figure of speech!"  
  
"Ooooooh," I said, mimicking the way he had spoken. "Then why are you beet red and talking four octaves above your normal tone?"  
  
"No-no reason."  
  
I turned on my heel and walked away, flashing him a smile as I went.  
  
*Oh, brilliant Zella. You're flirting with Harry Potter. Just. Bloody. Brilliant. *  
  
"I know that look," Crystal exclaimed, nearly scaring me out of my skin.  
  
"Yes, it's the look of what the bloody hell are you doing in my room before me?" I answered, plopping down.  
  
"No no, the one you had on before that. And for your information, I have a break between my next classes. I figured I would pop in and see if you were still hungover. Judging by the scowl on your face." She stopped and looked at me.  
  
"So come on, who is he?"  
  
"Who's who?" I asked heavily, summoning aspirin from my bedroom.  
  
"Don't play dumb with me!!" she cried, jumping up.  
  
"Why not? It seems to be your forte."  
  
"Nooo, I meant, HEY!" She exclaimed as the insult sunk in. "I mean I know you too well, and there's a guy involved somewhere in that facial expression. "  
  
"Not necessarily," I answered impassively, and she gave a snort that shook the rafters. Had there been rafters.  
  
"Since you're so adamant, I may as well tell you, or you'll be outside my room with a glass to the door all evening."  
  
"You get one glass, eavesdrop to ONE Door," Crystal said, and I snickered. "One door?"  
  
"All right, a few doors."  
  
I continued to glare.  
  
"All right, I'm a nosy wench and I can't stand secrets. Now tell me!"  
  
"Harry. I'm going to visit with Harry tonight."  
  
"But Harry's coming here. To your room. The same room in which you sleep."  
  
I looked up, abashed. "You're too twisted for WORDS!"  
  
Crystal smiled. "They tell me that, yes. Now come on, we need to figure out what you're going to wear!"  
  
She started to tug my arm towards the bedroom, stopping as I dug my heels into the carpet. "What are you waiting for?"  
  
"I'm perfectly capable of picking out an outfit, thank you. Not that it matters, because it's not a date!"  
  
Crystal smiled as though she knew everything, and released my hand. "Suuurrrrrrre you don't. And it's not, I believe you. Go on then, go pick out your garments. I'll be out here if you need me."  
  
Forty-five minutes later found me amidst my wardrobe, still dancing around in a bra and feeling quite similar to an ass.  
  
"Have you given up yet?" Crystal asked from outside my door."  
  
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. Damn her.  
  
"Yes, oh omniscient one, I have. Pray tell, are you going to bestow your fashionably inclined wisdom upon me?"  
  
The door opened, and a very smug looking Crystal stood in the frame, grinning ear to ear. "Oh, I say you go in that. Very becoming. Sure to catch his eye."  
  
"Shut up and help me," I growled through gritted teeth.  
  
Another half-hour and I looked almost presentable, for it turned out that there was a dark green clingy sweater and black pants hidden deep within a pile of discarded clothes that was approximately the size of Bosnia.  
  
"What about your hair?" Crystal asked, picking up a lock of what had escaped from the ponytail.  
  
"I'm rather hoping it remains attached to my scalp throughout the evening, why?" I asked curtly.  
  
"This is NOT the time for sarcasm!" she exclaimed, and summoned virtually every piece of follicular equipment she owned.  
  
"This is the time for-OW!!-What then?" I asked as a comb hit me squarely in the forehead.  
  
"Major hair reconstruction," Crystal answered, in the manner of one about to enter a military battle. I expected her to order me to march at any moment.  
  
"Move!" she barked, pointing towards the bathroom with a curling iron in her hands.  
  
*Holy Crap, that's a bit close for comfort.*  
  
"OWWWW!! Crystal, you're pulling my hair!"  
  
"Well if you'd stop FIDGETING!"  
  
"I'm not fidgeting, I'm trying to get away from lava-hot metal that is creeping dangerously close to my face!!"  
  
"Dangerously close? Nothing's smoldering yet, I see no smoke."  
  
"Let's not wait for you to cremate me with the curling iron before we become concerned, shall we?"  
  
"You're such a baby! Calm down, you'll be fine if you hold still!"  
  
"Ahhh!! I've never been particularly adept in Divination, but I see singed ends and burns resembling Blast Ended Skrewts in my Future!!"  
  
"You're just being dramatic."  
  
"No I'm not!! Hot!! HOT!! BURNING!! NOT GOOD!"  
  
"What are you--- Oh, look at that."  
  
"That's my hair that's sizzling. perhaps you'd like to do something about THAT?"  
  
"I probably should, yes."  
  
"Well let's get all pensive then, shall we? DO IT!"  
  
"All right, all right!! It's done! Your hair lives!"  
  
"I like what you've done with it. Would you like my hair medium or well done?"  
  
"It's not that bad!"  
  
"No, it's not. Do you hear that in my voice? Can we identify it?"  
  
"Sarcasm?"  
  
"Bravo, young scholar.."  
  
"More sarcasm?"  
  
"Fix it now, wench."  
  
Another hour found me emerging from the bathroom, hair finally restored to normalcy, French-twisted and elegant. How ironic..  
  
"Whoaaaa. What's the occasion?" Sirius asked, coming into the room uninvited and without knocking, heading straight for the kitchen.  
  
"I'm meeting Harry for something tonight. Are you physically -incapable- of calling the House Elves?"  
  
"Tastes better outta your fridge," Sirius answered with a mouthful of some form of food in his mouth.  
  
I rolled my eyes and grabbed the armful of food he had taken. "Take your food, and your blasted squid, and get out! I have company coming and I don't need something vile and nasty on the couch."  
  
Sirius paused and regarded me with his head cocked to the side. "You're talking about the squid, right?"  
  
"Yeah sure."  
  
He glared at me, and then walked over to the door with food, turning around with mouth open to say something else.  
  
"You know, you---" he was cut off by a piece of bread I shoved deftly into his mouth to block out further speech.  
  
"Fuscchhhhhhhhhinnn Igg!"  
  
"Same to you, love!" I paused and turned towards Crystal. "You too. out!"  
  
Crystal looked at me aghast. "But-"  
  
"But nothing! You were here for prep, you're not sticking around for the whole evening! Go bother someone else!"  
  
Like two toddlers, my comrades skulked their way out the door, sending sullen glances my way as I closed the door behind them.  
  
Outside the door, they stood in the darkened corridor together, regarding each other with curiosity.  
  
"Well," Sirius said easily, shifting the weight of food in his arms, "Since we've been banished from the House O' Zella, can I treat you to dinner?"  
  
Crystal eyed him skeptically. "Can you cook?"  
  
"Of course!" Sirius answered. "I just prefer not to use my own food."  
  
"Ahh," Crystal answered, and nodded. The two of them disappeared down the hall, while I sunk to the ground on my side of the door, with an exasperated groan.  
  
"Nit wits!"  
  
Author's incredibly Random Notes: Dunno Who to dedicate this to.. Presumably to the one to whom I am holding the key of the fantasy files.  
  
Done it. done it. Whoaaa. That's inventive. Let's look at the diagram. *Unfold.* *Unfold.**Unfold.* Wow. 


End file.
